


Solitude

by Tamahariel



Series: Orders [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, Orders, Solitary Confinement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:58:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamahariel/pseuds/Tamahariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orsino visits Anders in the cells beneath the Gallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate universe where Anders went to the Kirkwall circle as a young mage.

The air was still, damp and heavy, permeated by a cold that seemed to have no source of origin, rather pressing in from every direction at once. Shadows flickered on the walls and the clap of metal against stone rattled in echoes along the halls, the scuffling sound of his own feet drowned out.

No words were spoken, the silence unbreached until the massive doors laden with iron, sealing off the cell blocks from the rest of the ancient building, towered before them, dark and foreboding. The key, dwarfed in a gauntlet clad hand, scraped in the lock, clicking. Nothing could be heard from the other side. Only silence.

"Time is short, First Enchanter." Orsino turned, eyes flickering in the half-light of the underground prison.

"I know. Thank you, Ser Emeric." The templar nodded before taking a heaving breath and pushing the door open, allowing the light to pave way into the thick shadows. Orsino passed the threshold, and the door shut behind him, leaving him enclosed in the dark.

But then the dark turned to soft light, a wisp silently lifting from his raised hand, hovering above him in bobbing circles, green light illuminating the narrow corridor, bouncing off patches of clean metals and stone, drowning against the rust and moist mold.

As he walked, the soft, slow patter of his feet was joined by another sound. An irregular tapping, like a restless tick, echoed down to him. The sound didn’t stop for all that it changed beats as he drew closer, stopping only when the light preceding him touched the edges of a barred door to the left.

The light reflected wetly in the squinted eyes peering out between the bars. “That’s pretty bright.” The man said with a raspy voice, and as he smiled so his teeth showed, Orsino saw a scab on his lip break and bleed, the smile disappearing.

Kneeling, feeling the cold of the stone floor even through his robes he reached a hand through the bars, touching Anders’ face gently, frowning when he almost but not quite twitched away from his hand.

"Anders…" There was sadness in his voice, and resignation. He had not wished this on him, but it was less cruel than the alternatives. If only solitude was the only punishment he received… He watched the dark bruise on the bottom of his cheek, the blood smearing dark on his stubbled chin as his thumb tried to rub it off.

Warm, calloused fingers wrapped around his hand, thin bones pressed together in the secure grip. Anders eyes were bright as he looked at their joined hands. Orsino wondered what he saw, if it was the dark smear against his pale fingers, or the dirty creases of his own hands. An answer of a sort soon came.

"You’ve got big hands, you know that?" Orsino blinked, uncertain about the point he wanted made with those words. He opened his mouth in question but Anders continued: "I mean, elves tend to have smaller hands. Yours are quite big. I think its your fingers, they’re so long." He brought his other hand up and gently touched the lengths of Orsino’s fingers, thoughtful, reverent.

"I haven’t thought of it." Said Orsino honestly, his voice low, eyes lowered in bashful confusion. Anders chuckled.

"I have. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it actually." Color rose to his pale cheeks and he took a sharp breath, caught by surprise like so many times before by the apprentice’s words.

"Anders-" He began but Anders interrupted.

"-A lot- of time." Empathizing. The smile on his face was wickedly teasing, reminding him of other times in brighter places.

It didn’t fit with the stale air, smell of mold and tendrils of could seeping into flesh and bone. He shook his head, ridding it of distracting thoughts of warmth and laughter and incredulity, pained by the reminder of what was.

"This isn’t the time." He pleaded and that smile turned sour once more, joy replaced by exhaustion.

"It never seems to be. When have we ever had time to ourselves, -truly-?" Slightly bitter the question fell from Anders’ broken lips and it shamed him. He knew the words to be true, had felt aggravation at it. To have it flung in his face… He met Anders’ eyes and didn’t flinch at the wet hurt he found there.

"I wish I could say something against that, I do. But I cannot. Things are not as I wish they would be." He paused as though he was not certain adding more would be wise or not, but eventually the words fell from his lips. "You are not making it easier."

It wasn’t and accusation, not quite. It was despair and fear. The knight commander had been livid when she had found out of his escape, barely calmed by the time he was finally caught and brought back. He had feared for Anders’ life, and probably the only thing that had spared the man was that he had not been present to anger her further as Orsino pleaded his cause.

"Well excuse me for trying." Anders muttered and he truly did not know what to say to that. Words felt hollow, useless, bitter. Like whatever would come out of his mouth would do more harm than good. He did not wish that, not ever, but most importantly not now.

"Anders. I can’t do much more to help you, my hands are tied. But if there is anything… Ask me now, please." He knew he was running out of time and it pained him. Anders expression was suddenly one of slight panic.

"You’re leaving? -Now-?" Disbelief and vain hope that it was not true warred with the shadows on his face and Orsino swallowed thickly.

"I can’t stay. Meredith won’t have it." He tried to be sensible about it, but he could not hide the pain it caused him. Anders could see it writ on his features, in the shadows of his eyes and the wrinkle between his brows.

"It’s not right" He said shakily and looked away, and when next he spoke his voice was slightly choked. "How long…?" He could not finish the sentence but he knew what he was asking. How long did his sentence last.

Orsino swallowed.

"…A year." He had to rip the words from his throat, not wanting to admit that it had been the best he could do when it was only barely better than a failure. He saw the horror and devastation follow the shock his words had brought and he tightened his grip on Anders’ hand, regret in his voice and his eyes. "I’m sorry."

"I’ll go insane. You don’t understand what the dark and quiet does to you." He whispered and Orsino grit his teeth, forcing himself to not look away from his love’s haunted expression. It had been nearly a week since his imprisonment, and he regretted he’d not tried to get to him sooner, even as he knew the futility of it.

The fact was that Anders needed him now. And he didn’t know how to be of any help. Licking his lips he tried to sound reassuring, tried to inspire some hope to linger in his wake and in Anders’ heart.

"You won’t. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get down here, but I swear you will not be alone."

"Oh yes, I’ll have templars for company, how could I forget." There was bitter resignation in his voice, not the hope that Orsino had vainly hoped for. He looked away, wishing that he could say it would not be true. He would try to protect him, as he did all of his charges, but there were always those who stepped over the line, and those who turned a blind eye to those transgressions.

A hollow echo bounded along the walls, his sensitive hearing easily picking up on it. He cursed, knowing he had to go but agonizing over the knowledge.

"I’ll do what I can Anders. You will walk out of here." The weak shrug and smile Anders offered did nothing to settle the ache n his heart, and perhaps that was only fair. Why should his heart know ease when his love’s was haunted by shadows?

And yet, Orsino wished he could embrace him, hold him against his chest. Not only for Anders sake, but for his own. He wished he could hold his young love in his arms and trick himself into believing that things would reach a sweeter end. But the bars separated them, allowing only the mere touch of their hands.

It had to be enough, this link between them, this chain created by the weave of their fingers. They had no more, and soon would have less, the mere ghostly memory of the warmth created between them.

"I love you." He said, feeling the squeeze of Anders hand around his, holding on even as he felt his fingers slip away. The wisp still circled above his head as he rose and turned to leave, and he heard Anders move within his cell behind him. He wanted to turn back, but if he did, he would not be able to leave before it was too late.

As he disappeared down the damp hallway he felt the chill settling back into his bones, his hand the only part of him that still felt warm. In the silence, as his wisp faded and he raised his hand to knock on the door, he heard an echo of a restless tap on the floor, a nervous tick he knew so well.

Then he was let past the door, and the wood and metal swallowed the lonely sound. It was hard to keep his face in check, and he did not known if he managed. Emeric made no comment.

The door was closed behind him and he could hear the lock being turned, the key clicking and scratching. As it was put away and the templar came to his side he spoke up as casually as he could manage.

"It seems like we’re dealing with a rat infestation."

"Rats?" The question was slightly baffled but Orsino confirmed it as though it had been just a regular observation.

"Yes. I’d suggest getting a mouser, for sanitary purposes if nothing else." He gave Emeric a look and the man eventually nodded.

"…I’ll see what can be done. Are you ready to go? We shouldn’t tarry any longer."

"No. You’re right." Together they walked back the dark halls, slowly growing brighter and lighter to breathe, the metal stomping echoing down the halls and reminding Orsino of the restless tapping of Anders’ foot against the cell floor.

He had to get him out. Kirkwall wasn’t safe for him anymore.


End file.
